


A Fainting Fancy

by katyhasclogs



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, now AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-22
Updated: 2007-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyhasclogs/pseuds/katyhasclogs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year and a half after the end of the war, everything is going well for Tonks, she's newly married and has recently been promoted. But is all the hard work beginning to take its toll? Mindless fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fainting Fancy

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fic, written back in March 2007.

Tonks hurried through the doors of Auror headquarters, thankful that it was finally lunchtime. It had been a particularly stressful morning in a particularly tiring week and tiredness and hunger combined were making her feel ill. She slipped into the lift just as the doors began to close, narrowly avoiding a trapped limb, and sighed. Turning, she found herself looking into a familiar, smiling face.

“Wotcher, Arthur,” she greeted wearily. “How’re things?”

“Not bad, thanks,” Arthur Weasley replied cheerily. “And you? I’ve hardly seen you this past month.”

She gave a wry smile. “You’re not the only one. Remus has been complaining that he’s becoming a ‘Ministry Widower,’ as he calls it, even though we’ve only been married three months.” She sighed again. It felt very stuffy in the lift and she was beginning to feel light-headed. “It’s true… I’ve hardly been home at all this week. I’ve just had so much work to do recently; one of the perks of promotion, or so I’m told.” She gave him another resigned smile in an attempt to show that she was fine, really. It was true - despite how exhausted her recent promotion had made her, she was actually very pleased about it.

The effect, however, was rather spoiled by the wave of nausea that rose up from her stomach, threatening to overcome her. Her surroundings began to rotate, gradually picking up speed, and she put an arm out to steady herself against the wall.

“Tonks? Are you feeling alright?” she heard Arthur enquire anxiously, though he sounded strangely far away, and she felt his arms steady her as her vision swam and darkness closed in.

* * *

Tonks opened her eyes to find herself sitting on the floor of the lift, with her back against the wall and Arthur Weasley peering at her with a concerned look upon his face.

 

“What happened?” she asked, blinking and rubbing her eyes.

“You passed out. How are you feeling now?”

“A bit dizzy, still,” she replied, rising shakily to her feet.

Arthur steadied her as she stumbled a little. “You do still look rather pale. Perhaps you should take the afternoon off? It sounds like you deserve a rest.”

Tonks shook her head wearily and gave a resigned sort of chuckle. “No chance of that I’m afraid; with how busy we are at the moment, I’d have to be in St. Mungo’s for illness to be a good enough excuse.”

“Well in that case, I’ll take you round there now. It certainly won’t do any harm to have you checked out”.

“No,” she protested, “there’s no need for that! I’m just hungry and overtired.” This was true. She’d had nothing to eat since the sandwich she’d eaten at her desk late the night before. The shop she had bought it from had looked less than salubrious but it had been the only one in the vicinity of the Ministry open at 10:30 at night. As it turned out, the sandwich must have been past its best - she had been violently sick that morning, and as a result could not face any breakfast.

“No excuses.” Arthur wagged his finger as he opposed her with a quiet forcefulness that never ceased to take her by surprise when he chose to demonstrate it. “You need a few hours off, and in any case, you’d be doing me a favour by going to St. Mungo’s.” He grinned at her confused expression. “Do you think I would ever hear the end of it if Molly found out I’d seen you faint and allowed you to disappear without seeing a Healer?”

Tonks intended to argue, but was prevented from doing so by another wave of nausea and dizziness that left her too weak to protest. Reluctantly, she allowed Arthur to steer her out of the lift, across the Atrium and through the Floo to St. Mungo’s. He explained the situation to the Welcome Witch (it seemed he didn’t trust her to give a satisfactory account of events) and waited with her until she was called to be examined; at which point he needed to get back to work, but left her with strict instructions to go straight home after she was discharged.

“Don’t worry; I’ll explain to Robards why you’re not in this afternoon,” he reassured her as he left.

She opened her mouth to protest, but seeing the expression on his face, simply muttered a grateful, “Thanks.”

The Healer, a matronly witch with a manner not unlike Madam Pomfrey’s, took her up to a ward and led her over to a bed. Seeing Tonks' rebellious expression, she pursed her lips in an exasperated fashion. “I’m not asking you to get in! Just take your shoes off and sit on top of the covers while I examine you. It’s unlikely to be anything serious, but I’d like to run a few tests. It’s not that unusual for healthy young witches to faint for no obvious reason, but better to be safe than sorry, I always say.”

Tonks was about to protest that she _hadn’t_ fainted for no reason, she’d fainted because she was hungry and overworked, but it didn’t seem worth the effort, so she slipped off her battered trainers and climbed onto the bed.

The Healer took Tonks temperature and pulse, apparently finding nothing of note, and finished by taking Tonks’ left finger, performing a pricking charm, and catching a few drops of blood in a tiny glass vial, remarking as she did so, “We’ll have the results within the hour, stay here ‘til then please”. She bustled off with her sample and Tonks sat back on the bed to wait, fishing a dog-eared magazine out of her large handbag.

* * *

At around three that afternoon, Tonks stumbled out of the fireplace into her flat, brushing ash off her clothes as she did so. Remus was sitting on the sofa perusing a hefty and serious looking volume and she gave him a small smile, but was unable to completely conceal the worry in her eyes.

 

“You’re home early.” He smiled and put the book to one side, shooting her a questioning glance.

“Yeah.” She kicked off her shoes, dumped her bag on the floor and sat down next to him, tucking her feet up under her. “I fainted in the lift earlier, so Arthur took me to St. Mungo’s and made me take the afternoon off.”

A look of concern spread across his face, “St. Mungo’s? Are you alright?” he asked, taking her hand in his and stroking the back of it gently with his thumb.

“Yes. I mean… I’m fine, but… well… the thing is…” she cleared her throat and turned slightly to look directly at him, taking a deep breath. “It turns out I’m pregnant.”

He looked at her in surprise, mouth open in shock. An incomprehensible expression spread across his face; it may have been worry or may have been another emotion entirely, but it was followed by the beginnings of a smile.

“It came a bit of a shock to me, too.” She bit her lip. “Are you ok with it? I mean… I know its not exactly the best timing, we’re barely married, and we don’t have that much money at the moment…”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “I’m delighted,” he murmured.

Tonks raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at him warily, “You’re not going to be all funny about it then? Like you were when I suggested we get married?”

He took a deep breath. “I won’t deny that a huge part of me is _screaming_ that this isn’t fair on you, that you deserve a husband who can provide for you properly, that you shouldn’t have to worry about how to pay for everything a baby needs and that you shouldn’t need to go back to work immediately it’s born…” He sighed, pursing his lips. “not to mention that the child has no say in this… and that any child deserves a father who is whole and well, who won’t be a danger to them, who won’t make them a social pariah because of what he is…” he trailed off, frowning slightly, and then took another deep breath.

“However, I’m going to try to concentrate on the part of me that’s deliriously happy at the thought of becoming a father, and can’t quite believe my good luck, rather than all my insecurities.”

She allowed herself a small smile. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you? That money isn’t the be all and end all, that whatever disadvantages our child will have because of _what_ you are will be more than out-weighed by the advantages it will have because of _who_ you are.”

He looked like he might be about to argue, but in the end smiled and simply replied, “Thank you.”

She grinned and he grinned back, shifting towards her and wrapping his arms around her middle, placing his palms on her abdomen. She settled against him, sliding her hands over his and craning her neck to look into his face.

“Besides, even if we had pots of money I reckon I’d go back to work. And I’ve always thought, out of the two of us, you’d make the better housewife!”

He chuckled. “I think I’ll decide to take that as a compliment!” Remus planted a kiss on her forehead. “I certainly look forward to teaching him or her.”

“I wonder if it’ll be a metamorphmagus. And what colour eyes will they have? Your blue or my brown? And how on earth are we going to pick godparents? I can think of half a dozen worthy candidates without even trying!”

“We’ll have to start thinking about names too.”

“Yes…” she replied thoughtfully. And then more forcefully: “Nice, sensible, boring names!”

He chuckled again. “If you insist, although personally _I_ rather like Nymphadora.”

Tonks let out a huff of annoyance. “_Don’t_ call our child Nymphadora, Remus!”


End file.
